What's a World Without Sky?
by Mukuo
Summary: Sadawa Tsunayoushi's funeral. Takeshi's POV. Kinda angsty... One-Shot, maybe. R&R!


Unsettled birds threw themselves into the sky at the sound of the second toll, another limitless groan that tore deeper into us then any bullet, special or otherwise, ever could. The sky was darker then I could ever remember it, swirls of greys, faded in places and heavy with shadow in others. I wondered what would happen if I reached for it, would it tear like wet paper in my hands? Would it leave me wanting… wanting something bright and feverent underneath? Or would it only remain the same… save for maybe the bruised patches of darkness I infected it with. This death that lingers over my shoulder… no, not just mine; I'm being selfish.

I'm not the only one.

Soft rivulets of rain began to fall and the crowd of muddled slightly off-blacks, greys, dark blues all with their trimmings of smart regal white, shift. They move like a single entity… slipping through the large arch, the stone is mottled grey – matching the sky and the equally dull look forced into everyone's features.

I stop right there. Unable to pass under the arch, where a shadow darker then all the others that are splashed across the scenery cuts a dividing line before enveloping the inside of the building. I almost feel… like this would end it, like this would sever all the ties I still dearly clutched onto, all those things I couldn't bring myself to forget, to move away from. I wanted to keep them, to keep them fresh… so that it might inspire some kind of nobility, something other then this pitiful sense of desperation.

The next thing I know, I'm standing up… making my way down the pews with a look on my face I'm not quite sure I'm pulling off right. I want to be strong, to give him exactly he deserves; I want to say goodbye with a smile on my face – no matter how much the very thought of it wenches at my insides and unfurls my mind to those regrets.

"It took a while…" I begin, my voice low and grave. The people in the room dip their heads in respect to the unwavering tone, waiting to hear what I have to say, waiting to remember him with me, to agree and maybe even… to laugh, when I make light of this tragedy.  
" For him to slip into place, he was so unsuited for all this; he wouldn't harm anyone given the choice and as we all know very well, he would cast off all sense… just to allow his enemies chances to change, to turn back from whatever volatile path they'd taken. He'd forgive them, even when no one else could see why and then after that sort of connection was made – he'd go so far as to save them, even at the cost of himself." I was smiling as I said it, chuckling here and there when I called upon the memories of certain incidents.  
"Very few people accepted him when that time finally came, when he was forced to become suitable. To grow up – though I'm not sure he did, even if he maintained to be the most mature out of all of us. He never changed much, in all the years I spent with him – he _grew _but he never changed. I think that was what drew everyone in, he was safety…especially in this kind of world."  
My mourning hit me all too suddenly at that point, when I realized that 'this kind of world' would be one without him…and all the darker because of it – I don't know. Maybe my eyes were tinted, stained a certain colour, after being so close to the bright sky.

"We weren't on the best of terms when…" That mourning curled into pain, ripping underneath the skin of my chest, clawing brutally at everything, throwing itself against my lungs. I couldn't breath. I couldn't keep that look of strength on my face. I couldn't speak… couldn't form the words. Couldn't…

_**I can't do this.**_The seconds passed like decades and when I was finally able to part my lips to speak, they quivered and I was forced to shut them again, waiting a little more before I would attempt this pitiful transgression. I felt as aged as these faux decades took their toll, the room was silent and a few people had to drop their gazes from me, from my pitiful excuse of a person and his words.

" We'd all had a lot of disagreements along the way, with the Vongola Rings and the treatment of certain offenders, he remained adamant throughout, as if he was stopping us from changing with this new hard world we'd been brought into. That was the last thing he wanted, I think, for us to turn cold on him… even if, I think it might've helped. It might've stopped all this from happening.  
I never once disliked him, he always apologized for bringing us into these crazy situations and I know he worried, that he justified some of his own rash decisions; saying it was to protect us. I took the job thinking it should be the other way round… and, it hurt for a while, thinking all we did was burden him. There were moments when I saw it so clearly… and others where he hid it so well." My smile was meek and broken, I could feel its very foundations crumble, I could feel it coming… but I wouldn't stop again. No matter how pitiful I'd begun to look.

_**I can't do this.**_

I didn't want to stop – I would talk forever, I'd remember forever; reminisce like an old man, the old man he wasn't given the chance to be. I didn't want it to end, after this travesty of a speech… I'd get to look upon his face, one last time. I'd be forced to say goodbye.

_**I can't face him.**_

"I know he wanted us to be strong… He wanted us to carry on regardless." I was crying. There were tears falling from my eyes before I could stop them, before I could save myself even just that little shred of pride. Fuck it. I didn't need it… There was no point in retaining something I'm so unworthy of. "He probably had some sort of plan, maybe we just weren't looking at the signs…" My speech had coiled off into something else, I could hear the words… but it didn't feel like I was the one saying them, like I was the one blaming us.  
I felt the hot lines of water slide along my jaw, down my neck, into the smart white collar of my suit. I felt them dry in places, only to be used as malleable tracks for the more that followed.

I was still talking at this point, but I wasn't sure what I was saying – who exactly I was blaming. My hand twitched on the tall wooden stand, built enough to that it curled round me – support maybe? God bless the carpenter. This little box became my spine; stopping me from hiding my pitiful face from these people, whose expressions varied between disgust, rage, sympathy, nonchalance and that same pitiful darkness I felt.

My whole body flinched at the sound of splintered wood, the whole room reacted no differently, turning their heads to locate the damage, as the noise was loud enough so that it felt like it had come from everywhere, bouncing off these colourless cold walls, with an eerie echo and sorrowful beat as the last parts were eaten by the sound of heavy rain from the open doors at the far end, perfectly opposite me – the outside had never looked so far away.

The damage had been dealt in the back rows, scaling over across a couple of the mangled pews, leaving the people who'd been sitting there either frightened for their life, or uncharacteristically angry.  
Short dark hair, tall and as dignified as usual, I wasn't terribly surprised by his reaction, but the usual cold way his sharp, narrow eyes regarded me, felt like the it was the first time I'd ever seen them. The tonfa in his hand was clasped brutally in a calloused hand, though there was little expression on his face, the shiver that flooded down my spine told it all – especially when Hibari Kyouya turned and hatefully exited the great hall.

I was surprised he'd been there as long as he had, the room was almost filled to the brim with people and that guy couldn't stand crowds, I've never been sure why. With the speech disturbed… I think maybe everyone was grateful when I stepped down – there was no point continuing it. Maybe that's why Hibari had snapped; it must've sickened him to see so much _weakness._ To see someone he's worked with on several occasions breakdown like a schoolgirl over her first love.

_**I feel sick.**_

He'd wanted us to be strong, but we were falling to pieces. The Vongola were in chaos, chaos that could only be soothed for today – ignored, so that everyone could get their bearings, say goodbye and start anew. There wasn't any point, I'd never imagined the world without him, it felt like dream… some sick twisted nightmare. After the incident, all everyone had done was lounge around, trying to let it all sink in, I remembered… I think that was the first time in a couple of years that we'd all been together, all at once.

All of the Guardians.

I don't think we deserved the title, not only was our Boss gone… but it seemed like he was the one looking out for us all the time, he made these decisions on his own, knowing we'd stop him and yet, none of us could do the same; We didn't even know he'd been thinking about it – we'd argued a lot over the meeting with the Millefiore, we all thought we'd talked him out of it. None of us could ever have fathomed that sort of resolve…

Then to hear he…

To hear he'd…

_**I'm falling apart.**_

"Dame – Tsuna."

* * *

No one would look at me as all these hollow bodies made their way outside, shuffling, moving only on the most basic of motor-functions.  
I kept to myself, drowned in thoughts I'd hoped I'd over come, I accepted their harsh brutish attacks, let the waves pummel me, smooth out my jagged exterior before I let it sink me.

It was almost like I didn't know him at all in the end.

I stood alone in that darkest shadow, which cut a fine perfect line between the dull grey of the outside, It'd felt like I couldn't come in earlier… now it felt like I couldn't leave. I wondered absently if walking through doorways would always be this hard, knowing I wouldn't be able to hold it open for him, or laugh immaturely as we all accidentally tried to squeeze through at the same time.

It'd been hard on him, especially recently – since Reborn had perished. Maybe if he'd had that voice of reason, he wouldn't have done it, been so rash – at first… I'd felt angry, angry with him. There were very few times I could honestly say I'd felt something so severe, aside from that day my old man had been killed and even then I'd only made it through without doing something stupid because of him, his support, those words twisted with feeling, which an inner strength that even those who thought very little of him could marvel at.

He'd managed – and skilfully at that- to make me angry and then to take away the cure for it at the same time, horribly cruel, but I know he didn't mean for it to be that way.

I took that step, feeling my insides pull back, lurch hatefully as that glossy black box, beautiful in both its design, the silver trimmings that lined it and in the burden it carried.

I… looked away.

I looked to them, the group of guardians settled together – not close enough that they looked like companions, but enough to latch onto the same sorts of feelings, emotions that made them look so nobly at the coffin as it was carried to the large extravagant gravestone, nestled prettily within a bed of flowers and shaded by the crown on a thick evergreen tree.

I almost wished I could look. It seemed Gokudera was having the same issue, he was looking… but his magenta tresses disturbed his vision, and the shadows cast across his features felt more despair then my own. The Storm guardian's hand was rested lightly on the head of the youngest Guardian, who…

I couldn't really describe it, his dark thick tresses which sat closely against the frame of his face shifted slightly as he tipped his head forward. For a moment I thought he looked just as fantastically noble as Hibari, Ryohei and Mukuro, but I caught the tight press of his jaw and the way he'd meshed his lips together, to stop himself from making any noise. The tears took my attention soon after, which had made the collar of his white shirt wrinkle slightly, making it look like it had become especially delicate.

No, it was never only me.

But it's not like I could convey their feelings. I wanted to wonder – however, if they were suffering too. They made standing there look so easy – those strongest three.

The lid to the coffin was removed as the noble men who'd carried it to the steel hold dispersed, even I could look then – with some misplaced hope that he'd sit up from that little padded box and would smile at us. Would offer all of us our questions, would let us beat him until we couldn't hide the pain of his disappearance any longer. I smiled slightly…

_**I can't…**_

I could see tufts of auburn hair from where I was stood, I felt so eased at the very notion that he was still there that I…  
I almost turned and left, knowing this feeling… I couldn't let him go, I couldn't go up to his cold, lifeless corpse and offer my goodbye. He'd only been gone for three days. Look at the state of me!

_**I don't want to…**_

I lifted a hand to my forehead, hard hands that felt cold and over-used, felt hollow and meaningless. I leant my brow into the palm, loosing a couple of fingers in my hair.

"I'm not ready…"

One by one, people stepped forward, taking a single white flower from the table, I wasn't sure what kind…but their shape was elegant and flawless, curled ruffs coated their insides, so many layers, all dominated by the purity of white with only a single imperfection in the center. Those slight streaks of pink, like little veins that disappeared just as quickly as my eyes found them. I couldn't hear any of the words that were said, but I could tell by the way peoples mouths and faces twitched as they lent over the pale, sleeping face of Sadawa Tsunayoushi that this wasn't easy on them either, that they were trying not to do what I kept doing – breaking down.

The Guardians were next… and I panicked.

I actually turned, to stride away – to run. Despite how very unlike me it was; a lot of people would probably have been amused, surprised, if not disgusted by this shadow of a human being, this 'me' without him; this Rain without Sky.

My surprise stopped me, and it did the same for many others as the Varia slipped from the long line of glossy black cars, they hadn't been expected, in fact… it was wrong. They weren't allowed to be here; the very nature of a 'shadow organisation' was that it was to remain as such; hopefully no one would be able to put the horrible stories about their missions to their faces – though somehow I doubted it.

The Varia was exactly what they looked to be. They hid nothing about themselves and dealt with any issues in a manner that had caused a lot of conflict between them and him. Maybe they were here by obligation only? It was hard to say… but they didn't stop, picking up a single flower each, offering it despite the incredulous looks, to Tsuna's unmoving body.

Belphegore had his hair brushed back to expose his face, his styled into flicks that rested almost like a mane at the sides of his face, he had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit, leaning forward to place his flower within coffin, he wasn't grinning, but there was a small satisfied smirk rested upon his lips, as if this was all to be expected, in the end. Lissuria came next, also clad in the smart darkest black fashionings of a suit, he offered his flower, smirking devilishly as he parted his lips to purr something possibly perverted and un-called for.

I couldn't find myself long enough to be angry. That and I'd spent a lot of time with these people; it was just how they were, there was little point getting bothered by it. That and I didn't want a certain someone to see me in this pathetic state – he'd do just as he always did, he'd pick apart that weakness and would send that little thread I was holding on to into oblivion. He'd leave me with nothing but the drive to become strong – ambitious; like him – maybe.

I wouldn't do it without that drive, like he says, the killing instinct skipped my generation, if it hadn't just been articulately smoothed out of me by Tsuna; knowing the look on his face after I'd turned to something like that… I don't know what it'd do to me.

Squalo was stood next to me before I could pretend I hadn't come. He didn't look at me, but that fierce take to his features never changed at all and, in the usual manner he addressed me, his voice was no different, he hadn't changed at all. I wondered if he lacked the consideration, but then I scolded myself pressingly, knowing full well it wasn't something I should expect. I turned to pass him a worn pathetic look, which I'd tried and failed to fashion into anything different – but, my eyes caught on the sight of Xanxus moving toward the coffin.

I must've looked surprised, even a little baited perhaps – as I expected him to burst into arcane laughter at the sight of Tsuna strewn within the confines of a box.

"We're not going to pretend we were ever on good terms, or even that we liked the little brat… but we respect him as a Vongola Boss."

It seemed a pretty cruel way of explaining it to me, but I felt a little eased despite myself. The simple fact that Squalo had decided to explain their presence at all was enough of a rarity that I felt I shouldn't push for anything else.

Even Xanxus had refrained from wearing the smart black jacket from his suit over his shoulders, like he did with nearly everything I'd seen him wear, like the rest of the Varia, he kept one hand nonchalantly in a pocket, his eyes – as unnerving as they were- placed down into the coffin. I couldn't tell what he was looking at, but the tall male took his time, scoffing slightly as he closed his eyes, throwing in the flower as he turned to make his way straight back to the cars.

We, the Guardians were left to ourselves as everyone dispersed and the rain began to throw itself down onto us, for a long while we all just stood there, around the coffin of which had been secured under a small tent, as not to disturb the body. My suit was wet and clung tightly to my arms, but I didn't feel the cold, I was concentrating too much on the rim of the coffin – still unable to look.

I didn't want to be forgiven, as I knew I would be when I looked at his face. What would tie me to him then? What would be left of our existence together if I was forgiven, forgiven for falling apart at the seams, for letting this happen, for not understanding, for being angry… there were so many things I wanted to know.

_**Did it hurt?**_

Hibari wasn't standing near the coffin, but he hadn't left either, his dark hair clung to his face, which was as pale and chilled as the rest of us, I couldn't gather anything but the usual from it, course… but even then, I don't think he'd ever looked more human, more catch-able, more tameable, then he did now. Drenched with rain, leaning his back on the booth where all the white flowers had been, his arms were folded over his chest, his skin a porcelain white, only enhancing the unforgiving features. Streams of water carried down his face, and his eyes were narrowed firmly, either that or completely closed as I didn't feel that ominous shiver coil up my spine when I realized I'd been looking too long.

_**Why?**_

Gokudera was blaming himself, I could see it wrought across his wet features, his tresses skilfully shadowed the scowl in the frames of his eyes, one which I knew were there only by instinct, he had a wet cigarette in between his lips, unlit, hanging uselessly…more for comfort then for actual smoking, I supposed.

Lambo was still trying with his utmost strength to be as noble as the others, but his choked breathing cut fatal wounds in the silence and only seemed to darken Gokudera's expression as the Storm guardian tipped his head forward and offered an apology to his 'Juudaime'. He steered Lambo away after that, looking back too many times as they made their way to the two cars that had brought them all here.

_**Could we have saved you?**_

Ryohei lifted a hand to his brow, running it through his messy wet magenta tresses, smoothing them back in a manner that made him look like a completely different person, his expression was grave, but he allowed a small smile to flicker across his wet lips, perhaps having offered some silent prayer; His version of 'Goodbye'.

_**Why are you making this so hard?**_

I closed my eyes and bit down on my tongue, unable to watch as Ryohei made his way back too, even Gokudera…who was suffering so much could say his goodbye – could at the very least _force_ it soundlessly.  
Me? I couldn't even look… I couldn't even look at him. I wondered what would become of me if I did, would that last piece of me fall away? I didn't particularly mind that, what I really didn't want… was to accept it.

I feared the moment I could over come his death more then anything in the entire world.

And that's coming from a 'born hit-man' – who supposedly fears no battle.

_**Why… Why can't I look at you?**_

My eyes finally rested on Mukuro, whose face was as serenely calm as usual, except without that usually flawless and pristine faux smile etched across his lips. I don't think I've ever seen him without that smile before, without that teasing exterior, which could pull away all seriousness at the seams. The Mist guardian had a hand rested on the side of the coffin, letting slow streams of water dribble their way into the dry confines of Tsuna's coffin, it soaked into the white silk padding until Mukuro drew his hand away, his mismatched hues fixed on whatever expression Tsuna had.

_**Do you…**_

The one I couldn't bring myself to see, knowing it would end my tie to him.

Mukuro let his smile fall back into place, with the kind of reassurance that made me wonder if the male had spoken to him, was talking to him from beyond, It was wishful thinking on my part perhaps, but I'd heard a lot about his powers. Maybe it was true.

"Mu-…Mukuro."

That smile waned a little, as the male's eyes shifted to regard me, suddenly changing into an expression that made me feel unimportant, made me feel like I was nothing more then a stain on his peripheral vision, a leech on his 'Goodbye'.

_**Do you… regret?**_

"… Do- …Never mind."

Mukuro didn't seem to have offered me much attention anyway, appearing amused as he turned, trailing a finger absently over the corner of the coffin, upturning his brow with some sort of mild resignation before he parted his lips, chuckling slightly as he removed cobalt and crimson from the face of his would-be-body.  
"Maybe we'll meet in the next life, Sadawa Tsunayoushi."

With that, I was left alone. Never before had I wished to be someone else and I'd certainly never imagined I'd ever be envious of Murkuro's peculiar personality, I could never tell whether he was forcing it or not, whether there was something underneath that unnerving knowledge behind his eyes and those idle threats that stopped bothering Tsuna after the first time. They always caught me out though, that and I didn't like the inhuman quality that came with Mukuro's perceptions of hell and reincarnation.

I wished I could say something like that to him. To this body that looked like him… but wasn't.

My eyes finally gave in and flickered down to the face I didn't want to see, I felt heat merge with the rain surging down my face, the rivulets that cascaded down my body, freezing me on the outside, unable to touch what felt hollow and dark within.

I never did say goodbye.

I never managed it – like a coward. I turned back to the cars and walked away, I didn't turn back. I wanted to… but I knew, if he didn't climb out and come back to the darkened halls of the Vongola headquarters with me, I'd be all the worse for it.  
-Even worse then a coward.

I wonder what he would have called it? This thing that I'm becoming, this disease, to which he was the cure.

I wonder if he could have said goodbye.

I wonder if I'd ever be given the right to see him again.

I wonder…

_His skin was pale and flawless, his lips, void of their natural colour, cut into a thin line that curled serenely at the edges, the expression matched the serenity of his features, his rounded feminine face and the thick lashes of his eyes. His brow was covered by soft tresses, cut unevenly, with the hints of curls here and there where it wildly flicked out, stained a lush and pure milk chocolate brown, which faded in places only to shine with a hinted gold in others; even though there was next to no light strong enough to force the colour out.  
He looked like he might've died during a brilliant dream, some transgression of purpose, which he'd been looking forward to. The longer parts of his hair were spayed out in long strands over the pillow, curling amongst the white flowers that had been _tucked_ there, as if to pillow what might possibly be a rough ride to another place, a better world, where his face seemed to say that he was going to see everyone again real soon._

"Gomenasai."

* * *

**Mukuo: "** Ah. More depressing stuff from me I'm afraid…  
At first I didn't know whose perspective to do this in, but I think I chose best.  
If you read the TYL arc over again, TYL -Yamamoto looks continuously grave throughout. I don't think he got over what happened to Tsuna, I don't think he accepted it much at all.

Now. 2780 isn't my thing. I didn't intend for it at all really, but it might seem that way. Even though, I think I could have made it just as

'I love you Tsuna!!! Don't leave! T 0 T ' with any of the other characters - Mukuro-sama. .////u////.  
Only I'd have to worry about keeping him in character.  
-And Xanxus… I **LOVE** Xanxus. *Wants him… so much.*

I also just wanted to have some 'fun' imagining the funeral… all those people in suits. *Drool*  
And you know they look FAAAAABULOUS in suits. Just look up some fan-art and some of Akira Amano's chapter covers to see what I mean.

Everyone I love dies…  
I should do Mukuro's death next. T n T''  
Just to keep this emotionally stable train rolling. *Sarcasm*

I Love Reviews! :DD *Wink, wink, nudge, nudge***"**


End file.
